


Stories of the Scarecrow

by W_H_4_T



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Cole Appreciation Work, Drabble, F/F, F/M, Ficlet, I love the Spirit Child
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-12 23:35:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29517498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/W_H_4_T/pseuds/W_H_4_T
Summary: Just a small Cole appreciation work ft. a few other DA characters and how he interacts with/brings them together.
Relationships: Blackwall | Thom Rainier/Josephine Montilyet, Cole/Wholesome Vibes, Josephine Montilyet/Female Trevelyan
Kudos: 6





	1. Singing Swans (FInquisitor x Josephine)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a prompt ask on Tumblr that I answered.   
> It was about Cole revealing Josephine or the Inquisitor's feelings for each other because...Cole.

Thoughts are like music, some are operatic and others are vibrations against Cole’s skull. His mind is pulled like dough, stretching under Cook’s hands as she recalls Haven, flying like an arrow as Sera dreams of mischief. He is everywhere all the time and yet nowhere all at once; always listening to the music of Skyhold. 

There’s one song, in particular, Cole has grown accustomed to; wafting from the Ambassador’s office. More often than not, he follows the melody, always dropping whatever strange task he was doing to disappear into the halls. They can’t see him, they never do, especially if he really doesn’t want to be seen. 

Trevelyan and the Ambassador engage in some light banter; blue, sunken eyes watch the parlay with intrigue, the tilt of the head, the coy covering of a smile. Cole is perched on the wooden tub at the edge of the office, spying like a Rook as Josephine laughs again, her face flushed. 

The song comes back to him, the tangle of feelings that led him there, watching the conversation trail away in quiet awkwardness. Josephine is thinking, he can hear the words like water against metal; _what else can I say to keep her here?_

And the Inquisitor is no better with her flustered, frantic musings; _what can I say to stay here?_

The Spirit takes in the pleas, hearing Compassion called silently to aid the situation, hearing unspoken voices struggling to remain afloat. 

A shuffle of papers is met with a dropped quill as Cole appears next to the blushing pair, his hat hanging low over his mournful face.

“Tethering, twisting thoughts,” Cole says quickly, watching Trevelyan’s surprised expression, “Spin me stories from your silken voice, I want to hear everything as it lilts, lifting my spirit upwards, sweetening my life in ways unsaid. Keep me here, accented, asking again and again until we must part ways.”

Trevelyan opens her mouth to say something before she’s stopped by the Spirit boy tapping his boot against the ground, playing some unknown beat to keep his mind affixed and focused. 

Cole pauses before turning his head, looking in Josephine’s direction but never once directly at her, “Smoky hair, brilliant smile, scars and shadows cast like smudging charcoal on father’s old sketches. She’s a portrait, a work of art, a warrior willed to life from a wish. Stay here, wilting, again and again until you return.” there’s a small frown as he begins again, “If you like each other then why are you hiding?”

There is no subtlety in the boy, even as he feels the resonating shock from the love shy ladies, his mind suddenly awash with worry as a spike of confusion refused to fade. For once, he looks up, blonde hair parting enough for his fearful eyes to shine through. 

_No, no, no, it’s not falling away. They’re supposed to go together, fitting like wood splinters in a tree but now it’s all jumbled, cracking under the pressure._

In hesitant motions, Cole’s hand raises, semi-gloved fingers twitching. 

**_“Forge-”_ **

Trevelyan is impulsive. Though she’s tempered by logic, she can at times, do things she comes to regret. Today should have been no different as a hand reached out to grab Cole’s, forcing his power down.

That hand, however, was tawny and delicate, ink-stained and firm in its intent. After spending so much time in the same building as the boy, Josephine had learned Cole’s tells and with that, the means to stop diplomatic disasters brought on by his ways. 

“It is quite alright, Cole,” Josephine assuages, her grip lessening so as not to harm him, “There is no need to do anything drastic and if I may be so bold…” she pauses, looking at Trevelyan who’s sporting a very red face, “I believe Lady Trevelyan and I have something rather interesting to discuss.”

Trevelyan gulps at the sound of her name before looking down, mimicking Cole’s bowed behaviour.

“IguessIcan...Icantalk…” the Inquisitor replies, her words muffled from her downwards glance.

The tangles tighten, knotting and bunching until Cole finally feels the threads loosen, becoming listless; the song mirrors the sea, ebbing in sound till it’s akin to a heartbeat. 

“Thank you,” the boy says, stepping backwards, a smile on his face, “for not hiding. People are meant to be cherished, held closely till there’s nothing but everything.”

And he’s gone, like voices in the wind, like charcoal in the fire. The only part of him that remains is his words; spoken softly with speed to hasten something meant to be.

“Sooooo,” Trevelyan drawls, her fingers sliding across the desk to bump against the Ambassador’s, “I’m like a painting, huh?” the red begins to drain away from her face, a smile replacing the embarrassment. 

Josephine, in all her social grace, is only too eager to reply, “A drawing,” she corrects, “And what am I, pray tell? A bird? A minstrel?”

Bending her back forward, the Inquisitor hovers half over the desk, her hand slowly coming up to rest over Josephine’s, “Oh, you’re not just any bird. You’re a beautiful one like...a swan!”

There’s a small chuckle from the Ambassador as she allows the touch, her eyes glittering with newfound excitement, “Swans do not sing.”

Instead of some witty reply, Trevelyan scoffed playfully, rolling the conversation into something else entirely. No longer stood a wall nor a shroud to shield their intent, no dancing and courtly dodges. Laid bare, in the open was something new waiting to flourish, two voices ringing out instead of just one, muddled bass. 

Though he could not be seen from the top of the tavern, he heard the crisp clarion call even as Maryden crooned. 

Softly sighing in simultaneity, Trevelyan and Josephine.

Cole smiles as he sits on the tavern’s stair railing, his legs bouncing against the wood, tapping away to the tune of a new romance.


	2. What if? (Minor Blackwall x Josephine)

**Blackwall:**...alright, let me hear it.

**Cole:** _*smiles*_ Bold, brash and brave but not boastful. Voice gruff and genuine like the slow sawing of wood. Every morning I see the flowers, every night I dream of a knight. He's the turning face of a spinning coin, two names under one shield, two hands reaching out to me. I fear fleeting dreams, gathering silk swiftly in my hands, clutching my chest. I can't breathe, can't speak when he calls my name; neither titles nor Houses but my name. Josephine.

**Blackwall:** How...how're you so sure that's really what she's thinkin'?

**Cole:** Two hearts tangled up like cloth caught on a branch, unravelling, unwinding but never disconnected from the source. Your love touches hers; dead of night, a quarter moon shines, we look towards the sky where the stars are crossed. Don't worry about everything else, thinking makes it longer, stretching out the pain and never the love. Put down the flower and take her hand.

**Blackwall:.**. _*soft chuckle*_ I suppose I’ll...think about it. I don't give a toss if Cassandra thinks you're a demon; you're nothin' but a good lad with a good heart. Thanks, Cole. 

**Cole:** I like having a good heart. I hope I get to keep it!

**Blackwall:** Oh, you will, for damn sure.


	3. The Specter and the Socialite (Josephine & Cole)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I love DA Banter so much.

**Cole:** _*appears*_

**Josephine:** Ah! C-cole. It’s just you. Maker’s breath, please stop doing that.

 **Cole:** I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.

 **Josephine:** I know your intent is good but I’m afraid the visiting dignitaries do not share my views. Comte Farrier has already announced to his peers that Skyhold is haunted.

 **Cole:** I used to think I was a ghost but I’m not. Maybe there’s another me somewhere?

 **Josephine:** That’s not what-... _*sigh*_

***

**Cole:** Names rattle around resurfacing when needed, plucking words like harp strings that tie the world into a bow. You’re very good at what you do, Josephine.

**Josephine:** Thank you, Cole. It is the product of dedicated study, rigorous tutelage and consistent social battles. Let the soldiers say what they will, Finishing school is not for the faint of heart.

**Cole:** White-hot pain, my hands stinging as the teacher brings the ruler down again. I only forgot once, please. “You will excel or get out of my class”. I cannot cry, I mustn’t, Cozette glances at me from her seat, snickering with her friends. I hear the word, piercing like arrows in the back of my skull, “Look at the Montilyet dog, fighting for scraps”. I mustn’t cry.

**Josephine:** Though your talents must come in useful, I truly do not appreciate you doing that. I am kindly asking you to desist, Cole.

**Cole:** The girls are far away, the Madame is far away. No one is perfect, it’s ok to cry now.

**Josephine:** Please... **stop.**

**Cole:** I’m sorry…I didn't mean to upset you, I just wanted to help.

**Josephine:** I know, Cole...That is why I'm far from furious. Most people require time to process their past and having it brought up so suddenly can be quite jarring. You are not at fault but do keep what I said in mind.

**Cole:**...I won't forget.

***

**Cole:** So many masks hung up on the shelf, every day you pick one out, settling, sinking into the familiar shape. Latching tightly, you force its hold even when the painted porcelain starts cracking.

**Josephine:** Your words will never cease to surprise me. I can always expect something incomprehensible and mysterious to come from your mouth.

**Cole:** Does that make you happy?

**Josephine:** I...suppose it is something to look forward to each day; the world is truly less dull with you around.

**Cole:** That’s good! I’m happy you’re happy! You’re not the mask, you’re Josephine. Letting it crack doesn’t make you less you, it makes you more. Summers in Rialto, uncovered laughs, I run barefoot on the beach chasing seagulls. They want to make a Lady of me, I laugh again.

**Josephine:** Your kind words have been noted, Cole though returning to such an uncontrolled state will be detrimental for the Inquisition’s reputation.

**Cole:** I can hear it like a raindrop rippling on water, “Maybe one day”. You’re allowed to have dreams, Josephine.

**Josephine:** _*small laugh*_ Yes...maybe one day but not today.

***

**Josephine:** Cole, I know you are rather attached to your current clothing but have you ever considered...a different style? You would look dashing in Velveteen.

**Cole:** Varric asked me about my hat before. I didn’t know what was wrong. All I know is that I like my clothes. It’s the form I’m familiar with, plastered to starving bones; the last thing he wore. I wouldn’t ask you to change your skin.

**Josephine:** Oh! I meant absolutely no offence! I was simply seeing if you were amenable to a wardrobe change is all. Please excuse my poor choice of words.

**Cole:** Bright blue, muted red, brush back his hair or trim it. Platinum blonde goes well with brocade. Ring velvet is too strong, he’s sweet, sensitive, sublime in something softly coloured. Do you really think I’d look that nice?

**Josephine:** There is no doubt in my mind. I can see you carrying a spring-themed doublet with nothing but regality. As I said before, you would look so dashing.

**Cole:** Can I keep my hat?

**Josephine:**... _*sighs deeply while crossing out her notes*_ Autumnal-themed it is.


	4. Fade Buddies! (Merrill & Cole ft. Varric)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before Cole, my favourite character was Merrill. The two of them? Bantering? TOGETHER? YES!

**Merrill:** Your hat is very interesting. How do you see when it's so floppy?

 **Cole:** With my eyes.

 **Merrill:** Of course you see with your eyes, I don't know how else you would. Unless you have more than two eyes. Do you? Actually, please don't answer that.

***

**Cole:** Misshapen mishaps manifest in the mirror, Hawke brings me tea but I only thirst for what was lost.

**Merrill:** The People will always be my priority, Cole, even if we don't see eye to eye.

**Cole:** You should put the knife down, Daisy, before you get cut, bleeding, blistering, bawling; Mahariel carries Tamlen's bow and nothing else.

**Merrill:** Lyna was dying because we didn't know what to do. As the Keeper's First, it's my duty to help the Clan but I couldn't do anything. I can't let that happen again.

**Cole:** And you won't. You study to push the pain down, to learn the lost lore and hope it heals the hurt you never fixed. The past is gone and you tried your best. It's ok to let them go now.

**Merrill:**...Thank you, Cole.

***

**Cole:** 🎶Elgara vallas, da'len, melava somniar🎶

**Merrill:** 🎶Mala taren aravas, Ara ma'desen melar🎶

**Cole:** Don't be embarrassed. Your singing is good, better than the Keeper's.

**Merrill:** Oh yes, absolutely. She'd sing to me whenever I was sick but it would only make me sicker.

**Cole:** But you still loved it. You loved her.

**Merrill:** Yes, though I could have done without all the headaches.

***

**Merrill:** In Dalish Culture, they teach us to be afraid of Spirits but you're not so bad.

**Cole:** Thank you! I like not being bad.

**Merrill:** In fact, you're quite good! Possibly the nicest Spirit I've ever met...Hold on, you are a Spirit, right?

**Cole:** I'm Cole, the me that was made better, made solid when the air touched the ground.

**Merrill:** _Riiiiight_...Varric?! Is he a Spirit or a human?

**Varric:** Daisy, I'm a dwarf, remember? I thought weird magic shit was _your_ thing?

**Merrill:** It is but Cole's different...and I left all my books at home...

**Varric:** Well, to me, the kid's a kid. Keep cutting out all that vanishing stuff and you'll be on the fast track to humanhood in no time.

**Cole:** Can I keep my hat while I'm on the tracks?

**Varric:** _*laughs*_ Sure kid, whatever you want. It is a _great_ conversation piece after all.


	5. His First Hug ft. Inquisitor Lavellan

All he did was follow the feeling, under the Inquisitor's desk, finding a smooth, wooden ring with wolves carved along its aged band. It was cold in his hands but the memories were like little embers spitting from a flame, old songs from an older time, little feet against the soil, speaking the tongues of an Empire lost.

The ring led him to someone, somewhere, outside the War Room where the Inquisitor stared at the stone walls, mired in stress. The ring reached out silently as Cole appeared close, but not too close; it would not do to scare his friend.

And at once, he'd caught their attention at first, a small smile then shock as the Inquisitor sees the ring.

It's taken quickly as tears begin to form in the Herald's eyes, normally so serious, so stressed now simple, softened.

"If you lose it again, I'll find it"

The Inquisitor doesn't speak as they wear the ring once more as the songs and memories slide into place perfectly, unperturbed and placid.

They step forward quickly, catching Cole off guard despite his mind-reading and bowled him over with a bear hug. It's his first hug and by the Maker, the Spirit has no idea what to do. He stands, leaning into the Inquisitor, accepting and amicable in all intent. Slowly, a grin breaks out on Cole's face, as he feels the arms around his shoulders, grounding and grappling, reminding him he exists.

That Lavellan holds not a Spirit nor a Fade Wisp, but a boy named Cole.

" **Ma serannas, Da'len**. Thank you, Cole" the Inquisitor says through tears.

Within that moment, a thought flies past catching Cole's attention as it asks him questions. He feels it in the Inquisitor, the faded words and sounds taking shape on his tongue and complies, giving it voice.

**"Ma nuvenin, Lethallen."**


	6. Confining Choices Cease to Cage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Banter between Cole and an enemy mid combat.

**Cole:** I'm sorry your mother hurt you.

**Enemy:** _*lowers weapon*_ ???

**Cole:** Sweating, scared, I run but she raises the stick and my world slips away. Eyes black as night, nagging, needling nestling in my head like the blood on my hands. I raise the blade. Never again, never again. My sword swiftly strikes. **Never again.**

**Enemy:**...I...don't want to fight anymore. 

**Cole:** You're allowed to choose now instead of hurting to help yourself, to save, salvage the broken pieces. It's ok to stop.

**Enemy:** _*starts sobbing*_ I wanted to be a baker.

**Cole:** Like father, smears of flour against his cheeks, the bread rises perfectly with the sun. **You're free now.**


End file.
